I wish
you could see the sadness of a business man as his livelihood goes up in
flames, or that family returning home, only to find their house and
belongings damaged or lost for good.

I wish
you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for trapped
children, flames rolling above your head, your palms and knees burning as
you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the kitchen below you
burns.

I wish
you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3a.m. As I check her husband of 40
years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him
back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting his wife and family
to know everything possible was done to try too save his life.

I wish
you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of soot-filled
mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout gear, the sound of
flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in
dense smoke - sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish
you could understand how it feels to go to work in the morning after
having spent most of the night, hot and soaking wet at a multiple alarm
fire.

I wish
you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire "Is this a
false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What
hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or to an EMS call, "What
is wrong with the patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller
really in distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

I wish
you could be in the emergency room, as a doctor pronounces dead the
beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the
past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date or say the words,
"I love you Mommy" again.

I wish
you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the engine or my
personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the
pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as you fail
to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When you need
us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you
forever to get here!"

I wish
you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage years
from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my sister, my
girlfriend or a friend? What were her parents reaction going to be when
they opened the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish
you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my parents
and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not come
back from the last call.

I wish
you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes physically,
abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their attitudes of
"It will never happen to me"

I wish
you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain or missed
meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to all the
tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish
you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping save a
life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be there in time
of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish
you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy tugging at
your arm and asking, "Is Mommy okay?" Not even being able to
look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what to say.
Or to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy having
rescue breathing done on him as they take him away in the ambulance. You
know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have
become too familiar with. Unless you have lived with this kind of life,
you will never truly understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what
our job really means to us...